


Do You Hear What I Hear?

by Haluwasa2



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: Hear the song your soulmate is listening to au, M/M, Soulmate AU, does watford have an alma mater, it does here, switching POVs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-30
Updated: 2018-08-30
Packaged: 2019-07-04 17:35:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15846072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Haluwasa2/pseuds/Haluwasa2
Summary: Music is a gift. It's supposed to help you find your soulmate. At least, that's what Penny told Simon. But his soulmate disappears the last year Simon has at Watford. He can only suspect that Baz took her. Baz just wants his soulmate to know some tunes beyond the top forty.





	Do You Hear What I Hear?

**SIMON**

One of the things I’ve always hated most about not growing up with other magicians is the fact that I don’t always know things that are treated as basic knowledge. Like magical history-- everyone swears by Aleister Crowley and I had no bloody clue who he was for two weeks. Or how powerful a simple nursery rhyme could be. (I made an entire rainstorm go away first year by accident with  **_Rain Rain Go Away_ ** . Baz chided me for it-- apparently it’s frowned upon to mess with weather, especially at such a young age. I think he was jealous.) 

The weirdest, and most frustrating to not know about were soulmates.

I had no idea what it was until the Spring of my first year. It had been the first nice day of the new year so Penny and I had taken a few blankets down to the Great Lawn with some snacks and a magicked music player to enjoy the nice weather and watch the football game. Baz had been playing, making a show of some third years and I was watching him closely. Maybe I could imitate him at tryouts next year. I scratched that idea mostly because I figured he would realize. 

A song started playing, one I had heard before, but did not know the name of. (I do now. It was  _ Carry On Wayward Son _ of all things.) Penny’s eyes had slipped closed and she smiled softly. I had only seen her look like that once before while we were studying. I hadn’t questioned it then and didn’t when we were out on the lawn. Until she spoke.

“My soulmate loves this song. He listens to it all the time.” 

“...Your what?” I asked, feeling as though Penny had just had a stroke and had spoken to me in nonsense. 

She sat straight up and looked me in the eye, “Simon, don’t tell-- The Mage never told you?” 

I shook my head and shrugged, “Penny what are you talking about?”

“Haven’t you ever heard music in your head suddenly before? Even songs you’ve never heard?” she asked.

I had and told her as much. It wasn’t unusual for me to hear music I had never heard before and then hear it later if the radio was turned on at the home or if we went somewhere. I never questioned it, mostly chalking it up to deja vu. 

“That’s music your soulmate listens to,” she told me, “One day it will help you find them.” We talked more about it, how it was common for magicians and there were rules. Only music got through and you couldn’t be playing among others but I had missed most of the rules because it had stunned me completely.

There was someone who belonged with me. 

And she loved music. 

Over the years at Watford, she only listened more and more. I never needed headphones because she kept me entertained. Even now she fills my head with sweet serenades and rock music and everything in between. There were the obvious favorites and I tried to listen to them sometimes for her sake, but she usually beat me to it. I shared songs with her that I liked. During the summer, my one Watford indulgence was to find music for her, but it was never easy. They don’t exactly hand out music players at boy’s homes.

By second year, I knew she was at Watford because I heard the alma mater in my head. By third year, I was convinced she was Agatha. Despite that, she said she didn’t believe in soulmates or destiny. By fourth year, the evidence was mounting that it wasn’t Agatha but denial is often easier than all else. 

Fifth year, there was less music and what was there was darker. Far too dark to be anything from Agatha. Agatha decided that it would be better to be friends. She didn’t care about destiny, but she knew I took solace in having a soulmate. I still kind of loved Agatha, but my soulmate was hurting. I worried about her a lot that year. It wasn’t just the music. Merlin forbid Baz figure out who she was before me-- he could have hurt her. 

I don’t know how Baz ever hears what his soulmate listens to seeing as he’s always got his headphones in. Though, I doubt he cares. I don’t think Baz believes in love.

In both sixth year and seventh, there were a lot more love songs. I didn’t know if they were message to me or if she had fallen in love with someone else due to my lackluster finding skills. Penny decided it was high time we took a little of our Humdrum time and refocused it on my soulmate. Just in case. 

By the end of the year, we felt like we were getting close and Penny promised to keep up a list of prospects while I was at my next boy’s home. My last boy’s home with my last year at Watford ahead of me. And maybe my last chance to find her.

It was a hell of a time for her to go silent. She has been completely gone as Baz is. It’s crossed my mind that he kidnapped her. Penny thinks it’s suspicious at best. Agatha thinks she just lost her headphones and music player. I force myself not to think about her being dead. Instead, I search for Baz and where he might have hidden her. For plotting reasons. 

It’s been a full month since I’ve heard from her. Penny loaned me Premal’s old music player and headphones. Apparently, he had given it up when he joined the Mage’s Men or something. I keep an earbud in while I eat dinner. I’ve got her music on it. That way she can listen. Wherever she is.

I dig into dinner when I sit down. It’s pot roast that melts in my mouth and I almost wish she could taste what I was tasting too. I’ve told Penny that before and she thinks it’s a ridiculous notion. Besides, if my soulmate was at Watford, it’d be harder to find her by taste. Almost everyone eats the same thing. I would have to rely on snack food.

I’ve got a mouthful when I ask Penny, “Hey what girls didn’t return to Watford this year?” Most of our class returned, but I think there are a few faces missing. 

Penny sighs, “I think she’s back, Simon. Otherwise, she’d have her music player by now.” I open my mouth to speak, but she cuts me off and continues, “And let’s  _ drop _ the idea that Baz kidnapped her. I don’t want to hear it right now.” 

I roll my eyes and go to pause the music so I can fully have a conversation with Penny and Agatha. Sometimes I get too focused on the music. It can help me not to think and get lost in daydreaming about my soulmate instead. When I look down, I realized I’ve used up the player’s battery. And that’s when I realize a song is going through my head. From her. 

I gasp slightly, “She back.” It’s the punker music she listens to on her way back to Watford almost every year. Relief passes through me in waves. As long as she’s alive, I know that I can find her. I’ll find her this year.

**BAZ**

Growing up, I thought my uncultured swine of a soulmate only listened to what was popular. If there was anything Aunt Fiona taught me, it was good taste in music. On the way to Watford for my first year, I sat with my feet on her dashboard and complained about it to her. I was glad that she drove me that year-- and most years. But that year, in particular, she said something that would stick with me.

“Maybe they don’t have something to listen to music to. Not everyone has Pitch money,” she said. 

I think Fiona knew before I did that I was gay. But I was eleven at the time, what stuck with me was the idea that my soulmate might need me to teach them good music as she had taught me. I liked having that responsibility. I took to listening to my music as much as possible which was a godsend when rooming with Simon bloody Snow. He made noises and shifted a lot. It is so easy to drown him out with good music.

I realized quickly that my soulmate had made it into Watford. The alma mater here, a God Save the Queen there. It wasn’t particularly hard to figure out. I was able to further narrow it down one day in early Spring. I was besting a number of older footballers when  _ Carry On Wayward Son _ went through my head. I could hear it also in the distance among the watchers because Bunce and Snow had it blasting from a player. Whoever my soulmate was, they were on the Great Lawn that early Spring day. 

I fell in love with Simon Snow fifth year. The anger came from lots of places-- it was becoming painfully obvious to my father (and to myself) that I was not interested in girls, I wanted to kiss or kill Simon Snow for giving me feelings for him, and worst of all I felt like I had betrayed my soul mate. 

I’d come out to Aunt Fiona in the car. She’d smiled knowingly and told me to get some dick because she’s  _ incredibly  _ classy. It was an hour or so into the ride that I had asked her, “...What if my soulmate’s a girl?” The fears had plagued me all summer. What if I was even more of a colossal mistake than originally intended? 

Fiona had shrugged, “Well, soulmates can be platonic. I knew a girl at Watford who was dying for a soulmate. She didn’t have one. There was a nymph she liked on the grounds and would have killed for them to even be platonic.” Fiona doesn’t talk about her days at Watford a lot. Something vague happened and I’ve learned not to pry because it’s easier to spy than to get something out of a Pitch. I’m the same way. 

As I started to fall in lust and then love with Simon Snow, I was starting to hope my soulmate was a girl who would never love me. Moreso, I was starting to to hope it  _ was  _ Snow.

My fantasies are burning hot. They smolder and don’t leave my brain and burn me from the inside out. I imagine the soulmate that Snow is always so worried about is me. He accused me of hurting or kidnapping her no less than fifteen times that year. And of eating her on several occasions as well. I had about as much idea of who she was as he did. But I’m Baz so I plot and if he wanted to believe that I knew who his soulmate was and could do her in, I let him and took pleasure in the way it got under his skin. 

One night, I shoved on my headphones--I try to use them when I’m not mobile, I prefer them to earbuds--just to drown him out before I broke the Anathema. I drowned him out to blood and murder songs and glared at my homework. I tried to quelch my jealous fire by imagining Snow being that fearful that I was hurt.

It was the next day that I ended up punching him so hard that it sent him flying down the stairs. Because he was fool hearted enough to bring it up again at the top of the steps and it really did serve him right. 

Fifth year was an eventful one for Snow and I. But the last event, Snow didn’t even realize that it had happened. All year, I’d saddled my soulmate with songs that fed my inky, angry mood. I didn’t necessarily stop after I’d stolen Phillipia Stainton’s voice. Perhaps it was cruel to do it, but it was what  _ I  _ needed that year. Besides, they were kind enough to occasionally listen to some of my other music to try and cheer me up. I appreciated it. 

The day before the last of that year was when the final event happened. I was listening to bloody  _ Kiss With a Fist _ because I was in the mood to punch Snow as I walked into the room. Only to hear Snow (in perfect pitch because, of course, he’d even be exceptional at that), at the same time as my player, sing, “ _ And I set fire to our beeeed. Ooooooh.”  _ And he just. Kept. Going. 

I slammed the door against the wall so he would know I came in. He shot straight up and glared at me. 

“Crowley on a goddamned cracker, Baz,” he cursed. 

“Where did you hear that song?” he asked.

“Soulmate’s listening to it,” he replied, casually, as I turned down the volume instinctively and then paused it. I had to know. I could have left it alone, but morbid curiosity killed the vampire and the cat. Snow frowned, “Aw she stopped. I like that one.” God, his walls with me broke when she came up and perhaps...

I pressed play again.

“Oh,” he said, “That’s weird.”

“What are you on about?” 

“She usually restarts if I the song she gets interrupted.” My heart stops completely as the pieces click together. _Carry On Wayward_ _Son_ , hearing my music when I know Snow has free time, and that complete absence of real music during the summer. It’s not like boy’s homes go around passing out music players to orphans. 

I don’t tell Snow. I can’t tell him. We’re enemies. My dreams are burning out of me into the real world and for awhile I think I’m dreaming. I hear Snow humming my music as I try to pack. I have to turn it off before I have an absolute fucking breakdown. Everything I could have wanted has come true. Snow and I are bonded in our soul. He  _ belongs  _ to me-- I belong to  _ him _ .

I will have to kill him.

Or he could kill me, with my name on his lips as his music slips away forever.

I can’t decide which breaks me more.

Fiona picked me up that year. Usually, she would drive me to Watford while Father and Daphne picked me up, but he had business that year. I got my belongings in her car and waited until we are far enough from the school to let my tears flow freely. I realized I couldn’t tell her either. Simon Snow, the Mage’s Heir, my soulmate? I’m thankful she doesn’t pry. She knows it’s easier to spy than get something out of a Pitch. 

I suppose I come to terms with it over the summer. It hurt like hell. My love for Snow was burning my flammable heart and I thought that one day I’d wake up a pile of ashes. Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch-- died of a burning broken heart because he was a flammable vampire. 

I turned to my violin often. I wished Snow could hear  _ my _ music, but technically I wasn’t listening to it. I was playing it. He’d never know the sweet melodies I played because of him.

I hated him for it.

But I turned to love songs. I let myself love Simon Snow. At some point, I couldn’t fight it. He was my soulmate and I was intrinsically drawn to him. Even the Crucible had given him right to me. Still, Snow wasn’t mine to have. All I had to give him was music. 

I must have drowned him that year with Nick Cave’s  _ Into My Arms _ . By time we got to Watford, he was humming it under his breath in the halls. My song. Our song. I decided never to tell him that it was our song long ago. It came with not telling him we were soulmates. Besides, Snow was very much convinced that his soulmate was a she. If I was to tell him…

Well, no one needs a Chosen One with a sexuality crisis. 

There were nights I feared Fiona’s words-- that we were destined to be platonic.

There were days my heart lit up like a candle-- like the day at tea time, when he was playing  _ Into My Arms _ for Wellbelove and Bunce and I heard him say, almost dreamily (which is a ethereal experience, to hear Snow speak dreamily), “She really likes this one. I think it might be our song.”

There were times I wondered if we were some new kind of soulmate. Destined to hate and destroyed each other but at least one of us was hopelessly in love. Sixth year, it seemed plausible because I still wanted to strangle Snow on many days. Seventh year, those feelings had passed completely. I wanted to hate him and it was so natural to be fresh with him. It was second nature, but I had fallen for him so totally and hopelessly.

I dreamed of telling him seventh year. I almost did. I wanted to straddle him to his bed and lean over and whisper, “Run away with me, Simon.” I wanted to damn the Mage and my family and the Insidious Humdrum and place my lips against his ear with the beauty mark on it and beg him to run away with me. To be his soulmate somewhere far off where no one expected anything of us. Where I could wake up each morning in a secluded cottage with Snow who would kiss my eyelids and say, “Good Morning, darling.”

Simon Snow will never call me darling.

One day I’ll accept that, but for now, I play my game of sending him music and enjoying the affection he gives his soulmate through music. 

Or I was. Until I got kidnapped by fucking numpties. I had dropped my music player while I struggled against them. If I hadn’t, maybe I could have used my music to send him a message. Instead, I received his. 

Bronze curls, blue eyes, freckled skin, and him thinking of me kept me going. He knew I didn’t have my music because he had clearly obtained one of his own to give what I enjoyed back to me. Starving in a coffin should have killed me, but every time I felt myself slipping, I thought of him and our songs. 

I had been the one to turn on Fiona’s music in her car after she rescued me. She had tried to slap my hand and remind me that music was for people who hadn’t been kidnapped by numpties and the words escaped me before I could stop them.

“He needs to know I’m alright!” I felt weary and sick and broken and I’d already been sick on McDonalds when I had tried to eat. He wasn’t listening right now and I didn’t know when I’d get this chance again.

Fiona had gone silent at that. The thrum of her car shook my body and seemed louder than her music in that moment. She nodded and looked at me through the rearview, “Snow?”

I still didn’t say yes. But I really didn’t have to. Aunt Fiona might know me better than I know myself sometimes. 

* * *

 

Using **_Open Sesame_ ** on the door is far too grandiose for my own good. But I want Snow to know I’m back. I love watching him spring up from his seat to glare at me. His lips are parted, stunned with surprise. He’s listening to my music and I see the earbud fall out of his ears when he jolts up as the music slips from my mind. 

Dev and Niall remain composed, bless them. We have reputations and Dev was warned, I believe. Thank Merlin for small favors. 

**SIMON**

Baz is  _ alive _ . He looks terrible, pale and thin and tired; he looks more corpse like. If he wasn’t a vampire before, he most certainly is one now. After dinner, I rush up to our room.

I need to talk to him-- I know he’s hiding something, but he’s not there. I wonder if what he’s hiding is my soulmate. If he put her somewhere. Everything feels like fifth year again. 

I can only hope that Baz didn’t feed her to a chimera.

**BAZ**

Remembering that I have to room Snow again is a blessing and a curse. I’m certain he’s suspicious and I wonder if I can finish my ruse of arch-nemesis until one of us finishes each other of. Until I finish him off.

I wish I had gotten eaten by a chimera instead of kidnapped by numpties.

Despite any and all of my best efforts, I feel like a sticky mess after hunting. Simple things are still a bit of a chore and I hate it. I crave a shower. Annoyingly enough, Snow has it already occupied. Once he’s out, I can’t do more than scare him about not having his cross on-- which had scared me. I’m still not totally full after being kidnapped for so long.

**SIMON**

My life feels like a whirlwind. What were the chances my soulmate came back exactly two weeks before Baz? Penny said slim and then went quiet when I had asked her. She’s been quiet about my soulmate since though it’s only been a few days.

I need to find a good time to talk to Baz. 

There are no good times. Every time I try to, he’s got his headphones on and won’t pay me any mind. At least my soulmate is back. Or, has a new music player. She’s got quite a collection and I’m wondering if she didn’t want to listen until she had replaced all of it. I bet she has an illegal laptop on grounds and had to work in secret. 

I kind of like that. For her to be a bit rebellious. 

I’d like it better if Baz would hold a conversation with me. If he was keeping her, a few other things. I know he’s lying about being sick because I’m pretty certain vampires don’t get sick. Baz seems to be avoiding conversation with me at all costs. I keep trying to catch him before he goes “out”, but he’s slick as oil. 

When I finally catch him, I’ve got  _ Into My Arms _ playing in my earbud (its mine and my soulmate’s song, ask anyone). I keep one out to stay alert, especially with Baz back. I come in and hear Baz singing softly. Baz sings too low. He knows the tune, but he can’t match his voice perfect and it’s a little monotone. It’s kind of endearing. Baz Pitch can’t sing well. 

What isn’t endearing is the words. In perfect unison with my own player, Baz is singing  _ Into My Arms.  _ Word for Word, verse for verse. With no earbuds or headphones in sight and all while he puts on a pair of shoes to go out. His hair dangles lazily forward over his eyes and against his chin. My hand comes off the doorknob and it creaks. 

His head whips up like a lightning bolt. I run faster.

I run till my feet hurt and I wish I could go see Ebb until my magic bursts slightly and I find myself outside her house. Her solemn face is staring out the window and she sees me appear. I can only thank God, Merlin, and Aleister Crowley that she doesn’t question it or why I’m shaken to near tears. 

Ebb plops me down on a seat, twists up her lips for a second and moves some of my hair from my face before taking off her cloak and wrapping it around my shoulders. She heats a fire silently and makes me a cup of cocoa. I nearly drink it in one go. She starts making me another.

My brain is a worse whirlwind that ever, but pieces are clicking together. Penny’s already figured it out, I realize. That was why she had gone so quiet on the matter. I had a bloke for a soulmate. And that bloke was Baz fucking Pitch who hated my guts.

Who hated my guts, but was singing  _ our _ song. 

Did he know? Did he know and not tell me? What if he didn’t know? What if he thought I was some girl that he’d marry and have kids with? Could he have kids? 

Was I gay?   


I stared at Ebb’s kindling fire. Ebb doesn’t have a soulmate. I think it’s one of the reasons she’s so sad. I think there’s a nymph in the woods she fancies. She always looks that way when she thinks no one is looking. It’s heartbreaking. And I hate to bring it up with her--last time I did she cried. 

“Ebb,” I say and I hate how hoarse my voice and how it cracks, “Ca-Can soulmates hate each other?”

She tilts her head at me and her face stays somber. Her finger scratches her nose a few times before she answer, “No, I don’t think they can.” Her eyes already look bleary. My throat goes dry and I down the second cup of cocoa. She goes to make me a third, but I shake my hand to tell her no. I might have some later, though.   
  
“I,” I begin, but backtrack, stammering, “I think, well you see, I think--”

“Your friend,” she says, “Your soulmate is your friend the Pitch Boy. Basilton’s his name right? He’s the one that doesn’t come around here much.” To be frank, none of my friends come around here much. And Baz isn’t even one of my friends. A tear falls down her cheek, but there’s a ghost of half a knowing smile of her face. It’s gone in a moment, and I’m still to shaken to question its presence. 

“He,” I try not to stammer, “He hates me, Ebb. And I thought I hated him? I mean he’s always-- _ always _ \-- plotting to kill me or hurt me or hurt someone else. And I’m not even gay or I am. I’m really not sure.” I run a hand through my hair and Ebb hands me an entire bag of mini marshmallows. I’ve never been more grateful to her in my life. I shove an entire handful in my mouth.

“Simon,” she says, even softer than usual, “Don’t you go worrying about the details. You should tell him and let it settle itself.”

My mouth is full of marshmallow but I manage a muffled, “Really?”

She nods, beginning to cry, “You have a gift, Simon. You shouldn’t ever forget that.” I let that sink in while Ebb wipes away her tears. They’re not as sad as usual. I think she’s actually happy for me.

“...Can I stay here for the night?” I’m not ready to go back. Not yet. But I’ll talk to him tomorrow, I think. 

Ebb agrees and lays out a place for me. I drink another cup of cocoa and eat the rest of the marshmallows before I finally fall asleep.

**BAZ**

I am going to light myself on fire. No, I am going to light the Wavering Wood on fire and walk directly into it. All very dramatic. I’ll smoke a fag while I do it just as one last fuck you to the Mage as well I think. They’re not allowed on the grounds at all. Fiona says my mother allowed them as long as they were a ways away from the buildings, by the moat. Daphne might cry; she likes me. My father will be sad and disappointed, but that’s not so different than he is now. Fiona will be furious, but I’m willing to live (or, well,  _ die _ ) with that. I don’t know about my other siblings, but I don’t think Mordelia would care which would be funny if I were not so stressed.

Perhaps Snow is proving the idiot that he is and is already convincing himself that what he saw, what he heard was a fluke. 

But then he still ran. And he still knew and I knew I could not hide forever.

Fire was better.    
  
He never came back, but he is in class the next day. He reeks of goats and I realize he must have been at that goatherd’s house. Crowley, she must know too. This was already too big for someone besides myself and Snow to know. I don’t think my heart beats the entire day. 

Neither of us listen to music today. All day I wish that I could hear  _ conversations _ and not just songs. I need to know if Bunce and Wellbelove know. I need to know if that would mean it would make its rounds around the school. I feel like I’m back in Fiona’s car, crawling out to toss up burgers. I don’t eat real food all day because I feel like I’m going to be sick.

Snow isn’t in our room when I get back to our room after dinner. I take the small favor and leave as fast as possible to go to the Catacombs. I hunted a deer two nights ago and rats will have to do. I can barely keep the blood down when I finally start to feed. Stress is such a terrible thing. Why can it make you  _ physically _ ill?

On the way back to our room, I do really consider going to the Wood and having an excellent funeral for myself. But I don’t. My feet carry me back up the tower to my room and I figure it might be easy to pretend it didn’t happen. That’s  _ simple  _ at least. Even Snow could pull it off. Maybe we could have some unspoken truce to do so.

My hand feels hot on the doorknob, but I push it open anyway. Snow is laying on his bed inside, scrolling through his player. He turns his head and sits up, “Baz, we need to talk.”

His unremarkably angelic blue eyes bore into me as I say, “About what?” Snow frowns. His lips pout when he frowns, his bottom lip going a bit puffy. It’s a spectacle and I want to take a slender finger to push that lip softly. I am truly my own worst enemy, Simon Snow be damned. 

“Baz, come on. You’re smarter than me--”

“Truer words have never been spoken.” 

That frazzles him and he jumps up, “Will you take this seriously?!”  

A cold breeze blows into our window, chilling me to my bone. Why must Snow keep these bloody windows open all the time? I cross my arms, defensively, to try and warm myself. To Snow I snap, “Fine.”

“You’re smarter than me,” he repeats, once he’s sure that I’m not going to interrupt him again, “So, how long have you known?”

“...Say it.”

“What?”

I want him to say it before me. I want him to make it real so I don’t reveal the truth. For all I know, he could have come to the conclusion that my soulmate is Wellbelove. I hiss at him, softly, “You know what.”

He grits his teeth, “We’re soulmates, Baz.” Dread enters my heart the minute the weight lifts off my shoulders. 

“That we are,” I replied and move to my bed to take my shoes off. Simon moves closer to me. I don’t like it; I don’t like the friendly air around him. And at the same time I know it’s everything I’ve ever wanted. But he doesn’t say anything. I looked up, “And we’re arch rivals and have to kill each other and you’re not gay so it’s all very tragic I understand.” I try to sound disinterested. I try to sound like I’m not breaking my own heart.

“That’s not true!” he shouts, causing me to whip my head up at him. He rubs the back of his head, “I mean, uh, well, if I am gay or not, I don’t think that matters. I think I’m okay with that.” He moves closer to my bed. I swallow hard.

“Don’t sit on my bed,” I warn as he sits down on my bed next to me. I smell his magic. Its smokey and enthralling. I’m drawn to lean on his shoulder to take in his scent better, but I keep my wits about me. A heavy sigh escapes me, “We have expectations, Snow.”

He’s quiet for a while, but then he says, “We have a gift, Baz.” 

“What?” I feel like I have whiplash. A gift? Not a curse? I almost want to laugh bitterly. And he’s close. I try to focus anywhere but his face. I focus on his pocket, where his player’s screen is glowing brightly. I think he was going to use a song to explain if I wasn’t open to talk. I keep from squinting, but manage to make out  _ Cheap Trick  _ and what I’m assuming from the long title of blurred words buried in the pocket  _ I Want You To Want Me _ .

He wanted this? He wanted me? I should light myself on fire because I was dreaming. I had to be. There was no other explanation. His hand brushes mine and I nearly jump. My veins feel like they’re burning with him this close to me. 

Snow stammers and I almost instinctively tells him to use his words before he finally manages to, “We’re soulmates. I  _ love  _ my soulmate. We-We have a song. Sh- He listens to music when I’m stuck with no player over the summer.”

“I taught you something beyond top forty,” I scoff with a roll of my eyes. My lips purse and I feel the blood I just drank rush to my cheeks. I admitted it. Damn you, Simon Snow. You beautiful bastard and your genuine good heart. It really should disgust me, but it just endears him really. To make it worse, he smiles and I about have a heart attack. 

He reaches over and moves a bit of my hair. There’s something so satisfied in his face and it dawns on me that perhaps he wanted to touch my hair. I remember the song in his pocket, waiting for me. He’s had a solid day to think about this and he’s already come to terms with it? It’s hard to believe he’s so simple sometimes. It’s almost as if he doesn’t think. 

“And what would you suggest this gift is for?” I ask, “I suppose you think you and I uniting in gay bliss will somehow resolve the conflict between The Mage and the old families?”

He winces slightly, “Kind of?” He really is simple.

I open my mouth to speak, but he beats me to it, “But even if it doesn’t… you’re still my soulmate. And-and I don’t know  _ why _ you disappeared for so long. But I was obsessed with finding you. I mean, partly because I thought you were plotting, but maybe I was drawn to worry?” 

I try not to be touched and instead tell him, “You’re talking out of your ass.”

“I’m not!” he exclaims, “...Baz, do you-do you not want this?”

I consider my words carefully, “We can’t have this. You know about everything. You know why.” Even the vampirism factors in, though I doubt I’ll admit until I absolutely have to. I continue as he stares at me like a smacked puppy dog, “We have expectations. But I do plan to kill you happily and then maybe a nice pyre will do afterward.” I don’t think I could live without his music. Without him. I’m too far gone.

He cups my face and I blush again, my eyebrows turning down. He looks alarmed as though I will light on fire at any minute. But then he’s leaning in and I can’t stop it and I don’t want to.

He kisses me. 

**SIMON**

I never realized how awful it is to hear him talk like that. No one wonder his songs are so dark. And I know if I don’t shut him up, he’ll keep going or do something drastic like go out to the Wavering Wood and light the whole thing on fire. So I kiss him and it is better than any song I’ve ever heard.

**BAZ**

I could die happy. I consider lighting the building on fire, but then I feel Simon’s hand in my hair and something within me pulses. I might be technically dead, but I have never felt a greater desire to live. 

**SIMON**

His lips taste like iron and I realize he probably really did just come from hunting. I keep going because I like it. My soulmate being a vampire is a bit romantic and my brain is just enough distracted by his lips to think its a good idea. 

I’ve wanted to do this, I realize. Baz has always had nice hair and I’ve wanted to touch it while he’s under me. He’s right where I want him. Beautiful and powerful and  _ mine _ . He’s my soulmate, under my nose this whole time. 

He pulls away for a breath and I feel his fingers curl around the chain of my cross. He tugs on it several times before the chain breaks and he tosses it over to my bed. He goes for my throat. I freeze at first thinking that he’s going to bite it. Baz doesn’t bite me. He kisses my neck all the way up to my lips. 

**BAZ**

I go for his moles like targets, like I’ve always wanted. It’s just as perfect as I imagine. He shudders under my touch and it pleases me like nothing else ever has. I go up till I reach his lips. 

Now it’s his turn to pull away. He lays me down on the bed and I go flush again. He hoists himself on all fours and he’s smirking. He makes me lean up to kiss him and I do it. I’d walk through hell for him.

**SIMON**

Kissing Baz feels like it lasts an eternity, but I feel like I’m getting drunk on him. I love it. I’ve waited so long. And everything, our past and our lives, melt with our kisses. It’s just us right now and we don’t need to worry about anyone else. The kissing only ends when we’ve both had our fill and are too tired to go on. I shrug my shirt off and settle in on Baz’s bed, locking him under my arms. He doesn’t complain and smiles. It’s a familiar sight and I don’t know if its from seeing it in between kisses or if I have been misinterpreting his smiles for something else for so long.

I’m too tired to really question anything right now. 

The world is going quiet and he’s snuggling into me when I remember something important. I remember his mother. Her ghost in our very window not so long ago. My half-lidded eyes stare at it and I can almost see her now. Headmistress Pitch’s ghostly calls haunt me again and I bury my face into Baz’s neck. He missed her and I had forgotten my promise to tell him.

I decide to tell him in the morning. No more secrets. No more lies. I am going to break his heart in the morning when I’m tell him, I know that. But he’s not alone anymore. I won’t let his heart suffer long and I’ll be right by his side. We have a lot of work to do, but I’m his soulmate. He belongs to me and I belong to him and for this moment everything is right with the world. 

**Author's Note:**

> So originally this was going to be a "you taste what your soulmate is tasting au" and then I realized even Simon Snow might catch onto blood being in his mouth every night. Instead, I took my friend and I's Snowbaz spotify playlist and went to do. First Carry On fic so I hope you all enjoy.


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